Comfortably detached

He is a name everyone's heard and no one criticizes

His "flaws" are numerous, yet they make him distinct and refreshingly original

Every time we spoke, my words never came out quite right, and I'd stutter or say the next stupid thing my brain strung together in attempt to make him smile

Whenever I'd succeed, my world would blaze in technicolor, and I'd wish the vinyl of time would get stuck in repeat so I could witness that smile over and over again

I wonder if our friendship was mandatory, and the plans we made were similiar to the way you promise to fix that creaky door hinge when you have spare time

He's better than summer sprints at the break of dawn, than midnight bike rides along an empty highway

Being around him was like being on Mercury, in a euphoric orbit around the sun

But now he's gone. 

I knew I'd regret the barrier I put up, I knew I'd become infuriated with how stubbornly shy I was, I knew I'd miss the way he told me I was his favorite, and I knew I'd wish I'd been more bold and pretended to be something I'm evidently not.

I knew I'd miss him...

...But I also knew I'd move on


Because that's how I am. I like to keep a watchful distance, comfortably detached. I insulate my feelings and avoid the vulnerability of being unguarded and uncircumspect. I try not to care too much because I know if I do I won't be able to stop. I'm all battered and worn in like a baseball glove, but I've never busted the seams. I'll take the bruises, I'll take the cracks and dents and dings. Cause truth is, I'd rather be crushed than shattered.


I know it's guaranteed to happen sooner or later, and whenever that may be, tomorrow or a month or a year or a decade from now, I can only hope it's worth it, and I don't use that infamous eight lettered phrase until I actually mean it.